


Before

by some_nights



Series: Summer Loves [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_nights/pseuds/some_nights
Summary: After Mal commits suicide, Arthur seeks comfort in Eames.





	Before

**Author's Note:**

> **!!!** (minor) **SPOILERS!!! !!!** (minor) **SPOILERS!!! !!!** (minor) **SPOILERS!!! !!!** (minor) **SPOILERS!!!**
> 
> ~~~~  
> _Warning: This fic does NOT have a happy ending! There is some fluff in there and I hope you have fun reading this, but I didn't want to toy with your expectations. However, the sequel I am working on right now does have a happy ending._  
>  **SPOILERS ENDED**
> 
> Enjoy!

The doorbell rang on a rainy night in the middle of June. Eames opened the door and saw Arthur, drenched, breathless, his jacket hanging open and his shirt buttoned wrong. His eyes looked red, his face a little bloated.  
“Mal is dead”, he said instead of a greeting.  
Of all the ways Eames had imagined seeing Arthur again, this wasn’t one of them. Eames didn’t know what to say, so he just stepped aside and let Arthur in. He helped Arthur out of his jacket, went into the kitchen and put a kettle on. He also went into his bedroom and got some dry clothes. They would be a little short on Arthur, but better than what he was wearing right now.  
“You know where the bathroom is”, Eames said as he gave Arthur the clothes. Arthur nodded and made his way there to change. In the meantime, Eames finished preparing their tea and by the time Arthur came back, Eames had set two mugs and some chocolate on the kitchen table.  
“Thank you”, Arthur said. He sounded absolutely beaten. He was walking with a slump, something Eames had never seen before.  
“Anytime”, Eames said. He wasn't sure whether Arthur was referring to the clothes, the tea or something else entirely.  
They sat in silence for a while, just sipping their tea. Everything was still sinking in for Eames. Mal was dead.  
Eames had finished his second cup before he asked: “How did it happen?”  
Tears welled up in Arthur's eyes and he took a shaky breath: “She jumped out of a hotel window.”  
“Fuck”, Eames breathed. Arthur nodded. “Dom?”, he asked.  
Arthur shrugged. Eames was surprised. Arthur and Dom were usually joined at the hip. Had Arthur gotten the news and come straight to him?  
Eames knew it was probably not the right time to ask, but he had to know: “Why are you here, Arthur?”  
He made his voice as soft as possible, so Arthur wouldn’t take it as an attack.  
Arthur's look made Eames’s heart break. He looked like a lost little boy and gave Eames the urge to hug him and protect him from all the bad in the world.  
“Where else could I have gone? It's not like I have many friends. And… I just can't be there for Dom right now. I can't- I can't comfort him, not when I'm like this. I needed someone. I needed you.”  
Eames did hug him then and Arthur cried in his arms.  
“She was like my sister”, he said. “My little sister just killed herself, Eames. My sister is dead.”  
Eames felt the grief creep onto him, about to hit him. The realisation that Mal was truly gone. That they would never have a fight again, because for all Arthur and Dom loved her, Eames and Mal had never really gotten along. They had managed, of course. Eames would even go as far as to say they had become unconventional friends. And now she was gone. But Eames couldn’t dwell on that right now, not on the had-beens and would-have-beens. Right now, Arthur needed him. He could break down later. 

Arthur stayed the night. Eames let him have the bed. It showed how wrecked Arthur was that he didn't even protest.  
Eames couldn't sleep. He should have cried with Arthur. Now, he somehow felt empty. Like he had just accepted Mal’s demise. Part of him was wailing, crying, screaming about how unfair this all was, but it seemed to Eames like that part was behind a numbing fog.  
With a sigh, Eames rolled over. Even though he was tired, the wailing part of him wouldn't let him sleep. He thought about drinking himself to sleep, but disregarded that thought almost immediately. Those days were behind him. And nothing in the world would ever make him go back to them. Not even the death of a friend.

He must have fallen asleep because he was woken up by a constant buzzing. Eames blinked and tried to grab his phone from the bedside table, just to have his hand grip nothing but air and suddenly, he was on the ground.  
“Fuck”, Eames cursed quietly. He stumbled up, still slightly disoriented. Sleep was lingering heavy in his limbs and clogged his head. He made his way to the coat hanger, where the buzzing originated. Arthur’s jacket. Of course. He hadn’t thought to grab an umbrella in the pouring rain, but he had grabbed his phone. Eames hesitated for a second, but then he decided Arthur's rest was, for the moment, more important than his privacy. He wondered who could be calling Arthur at this hour.  
When he looked at the phone, he realised two things: “this hour” was already ten am and Arthur was even more stuck-up than Eames had thought. Who the fuck saved their best friend’s number under their full name?  
He decided not to wait any longer and answered the phone: “Hello?”  
“Eames?”, Cobb asked from the other end of the line. Even through his surprise, Eames could hear his unbearable grief.  
“The one and only”, he said, only with a tad of humour in his voice. He was usually good at talking to people, but he didn't really know how to talk to an estranged friend who had just lost the love of his life.  
“Is Arthur there?”  
“Still sleeping.”  
The contemplating silence on the other end of the line made Eames curious to what Cobb was thinking at that exact moment. It was an open secret that Eames was absolutely smitten with Arthur. It had also always been crystal clear that Arthur wouldn't start anything with Eames unless hell froze over. Didn't stop Eames from flirting, though. It was always fun.  
“When he wakes up, can you tell him the funeral is in two days? I’d like for him to be there.”  
“Anything else?”  
Cobb hesitated for a moment, then he said: “You can come too.”  
Eames held back a snarky retort, this way neither the place nor time. Instead, he said: “I am sorry for your loss, Dom. Are the children okay?”  
“They're with Mal’s parents. And I'll be okay. Would be easier if I had a friend though.”  
“I will tell him you called”, Eames said and hung up without another word. Was that rude? Yeah, probably. But it was neither his nor Arthur’s fault Cobb didn't have any other friends. And if Arthur needed to break down without Cobb burdening him, he had every right to do so.

Eames had already prepared a late breakfast when Arthur came into the kitchen. He was still wearing the clothes Eames had given him the day before, now wrinkled from sleep. Eames might have found it endearing, if Arthur’s shoulders weren’t slumped from something more than just tiredness.  
“Hello, sleeping beauty”, Eames said. A smile crossed Arthur's lips for the blink of an eye and he saw that as a success. “Did you sleep well?”  
“I'm sorry Eames, for imposing on you like that. Thank you for letting me have the bed.”  
“No problem. Pancake?”  
Arthur smiled. “I missed your cooking.”  
“Oh, I can imagine that. The three of you are disasters in the kitchen.”  
As soon as he said it, Eames regretted it. Arthur's eyes were getting glittery again, tears welling up.  
“I'm sorry”, Arthur said when he let out a sob. “I am such a mess.”  
Eames hurried to Arthur and enveloped him in a hug. “Arthur. Darling. Stop apologizing. Right now, everything is forgiven without question. Okay?”  
“She just left, Eames. She is gone, forever.”  
Now, Arthur was full on crying, shaking with sobs. Eames held him and gently rubbed his back.  
“You know what the worst part is?”, Arthur asked between sobs. “I can't remember my last words to her. I can't remember which was the last thing I will ever-” Another wave of sobs.  
Eames’s heart ached. He gently guided Arthur to the couch, since it was more comfortable to cry there than standing in the kitchen doorway. And then he just held him, until all the tears had run out. He held him some more when he talked about Mal, about what they had done together. How they had loved each other, in a way Arthur knew he would never love anyone else. Arthur told Eames about how they met in one of Arthur's courses, even though Eames knew the story. He told Eames how he had introduced her and Cobb, how it had been love at first sight. Eames also knew that, because he had been there. But he let Arthur talk, because it seemed to help. And when Arthur was done with talking, Eames still held onto him while they watched some movie on TV. The pancakes were long forgotten. 

When the movie was over, Eames said: “Cobb called.”  
Arthur didn't really react beyond a small hum.  
“He said the funeral is in two days.”  
A nod. Eames tried not to get too worried about Arthur’s apathetic demeanor.  
“Do you want a pancake now? I could also make something more sustainable.”  
Eames felt Arthur’s shrug more than he saw it. He carefully untangled himself and got up. When he came back, Arthur still hadn’t moved.  
“I decided on the pancakes. Why let perfectly good food go to waste, right?”  
Arthur didn’t even react to that one. He looked tired.  
“Should I go to your apartment and get your suit?”, Eames asked.  
Arthur perked up a little. “You would do that?”  
His voice was hollow, tired. Eames answered extra cheerful: “Yeah, I could also get you a change of clothes. Although I do have to say: I like seeing you in mine.”  
Eames was rewarded with a small smile for that.  
“You just have to promise me one thing”, he added.  
Arthur raised an eyebrow and Eames felt a wave of relief rush over him. Arthur’s sarcastic eyebrow was a sign that he wasn’t too far gone, that there was still a part of him that could function through the grief.  
“You have to eat at least two pancakes. Deal?”  
“Deal”, Arthur said. Eames smiled at him. Arthur didn’t smile back.

The last time Eames had climbed these stairs, he had helped a too drunk Arthur. They had been out, celebrating Dom getting the T.A. position he’d so desperately wanted. Mal had challenged them to a drinking contest. And Arthur was only bad at two things, and those things were drinking and losing. So, he had drunk way more than he should have.  
Eames smiled at the memory, even though it was followed by a pang of loss. He had thrown it all away, and now he would never have it back, none of it. Because now, Mal was dead. He took a deep breath and opened the door to Arthur’s apartment. It was spotless, of course. As Eames made his way into the bedroom, he only noticed a few changes. Arthur had gotten a potted plant. And there was a new print hanging on his living room wall. (Eames didn’t spy, it wasn’t his fault the door was open.) Eames opened Arthur’s closet and took out the suitcase. He thought it strange that he moved with such familiarity. Arthur and he had been close and he had been alone in Arthur’s flat before, but never in his bedroom. Maybe it wasn’t as much familiarity as it was purpose. Arthur needed clothes, so Eames got them for him. He could also walk around naked, his mind supplied, ever so helpful. Eames shoved the thought down. This wasn’t the time for thoughts like these. Arthur needed a friend. And that was what Eames would be. A friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Arthur wasn’t on the couch anymore when Eames came home. He checked the kitchen, but apart from the clean dishes (typical), it was empty. Eames looked in his bedroom, and there he was, sleeping. Arthur looked like he had been crying again. It had probably drained all his energy. Eames felt bad for not being there. He placed the suitcase on the foot of the bed and went into the kitchen to make something for dinner. He also called his director and said he wouldn’t be able to make it to set the next week because of a family emergency.  
“You hate your family”, she said, but in the end, he had one week of vacation. Then Eames did something he hadn’t done in a while: He cleaned his apartment. Or rather, his bathroom, because by the time he was done with that, Arthur was up.  
“Did you enjoy your pancakes?”, Eames asked.  
Arthur nodded. Eames took off the gloves he had used for cleaning the toilet, washed his hands quickly and then hugged Arthur. The other man held on to him so tightly Eames felt as if he was the only thing keeping Arthur standing.  
After Arthur had let go, Eames said: “I made Chili for dinner. I know that you like it hot.”  
Eames winked and Arthur actually laughed this time. If all it took for some momentary happiness was Eames’s cheesy flirting, maybe everything would be alright after all.

The days leading up to the funeral seemed like an eternity and the blink of an eye. Eames took care of Arthur, cooked for him, kept his mind off things and when that didn't work, held him until he finished crying. They went for a few walks, often in the evening when the heat was reduced to a pleasant warmth. Arthur cleaned the apartment (not only the bathroom). He was slowly getting better. He didn't break down at the mention of her name anymore. Eames had locked his feelings carefully away. They would only burden him. 

Besides Eames and Arthur, there were only three people at the funeral. Mal’s parents and Cobb. He was a wreck and looked like he’d done nothing but cry for the last three days. They were at one of those newer graveyards that would be a forest in a few years. Per Mal’s request.  
They nodded at each other in greeting, but none of them spoke. A heavy blanket of grief, of suffering was hanging over all of them. Except for Eames. By the time they had lowered the coffin into the ground, Eames felt like he was not even there. Like he was watching someone else bury their friend.  
Mal had written something to be read, because of course she had.  
“We all knew this day would come”, Dom started, but he choked up. Eames went over to him and gently took the paper.  
“We all knew this day would come”, he read and felt nothing. “Or maybe it’s only me who was burdened with the certainty that everyone she loved would survive her. Mammon, Papa. You gave me everything I ever needed, most of all a loving home. I know I love you both so much, even if I don’t feel anything but pain and dread right now. Thank you for all you did for me.”  
Eames heard Mr. and Mrs. Miles sob. He couldn’t even begin to imagine their pain.  
“Arthur, my dearest. This is not your fault. I know you always assume everything is. But this is not. I just grew so tired of fighting. Now I am at rest. At peace. You have nothing to feel guilty for and if you do, I forgive you.”  
Eames tried hard to keep his emotional distance, to not tear up like Arthur did next to him. Dom was crying too, and it hadn’t even been his part yet.  
“Eames”, Eames read on and almost couldn’t carry on. “Eames”, he still said, because if he didn’t read it, no one would. “Of course I know you are there. Who else would Arthur turn to? I know you didn’t like me very much. I didn’t like you very much too. But we both happen to care for the same people. Take care of them for me, will you?”  
He needed a second to catch himself again. It was true. Mal and he had always had a certain animosity. But he had cared for her. She was important to Arthur and Dom, so he was important to Eames. To think she didn’t know that hurt more than he would have thought. He swallowed down his feelings and blinked away the tears in his eyes.  
“Dom. My love. I am so sorry to do this to you. My heart aches imagining the grief you are suffering right now. But it will get better. Easier. And I will be waiting for you, watching over you, wherever I am. Even now, where my mind is made up, the thought of destroying you is almost enough to make me reconsider. Be a good father to our children. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else, even now.”  
Dom was on his knees now, sobbing uncontrollably. Arthur went over to him and enveloped him into a hug.  
“To all of you, those of you dearest to my heart. Don’t wallow in grief. Carry on with your lives. Don’t be as foolish as me.”  
That was it. Eames swallowed hard. His throat felt rough and his eyes were stinging. He was the only one not crying. The feeling like he was just watching the funeral, not really a part of it, was still there. He was disconnected from it all. 

Three hours later, the life celebration started. Again, per Mal’s request. She had apparently been very specific. She didn't want anyone to suffer because of her death; instead, she wanted people to rejoice over the time she'd been alive.  
It didn't work quite as well as she'd intended. There was a stark contrast between the colourful decorations, the pictures of Mal and Dom on their travels, of their family and the sorrowful faces of the guests. The service was open and was attended by quite a number of people. There were many from the University, professors and students alike. Eames was surprised to see some of his old doctorate colleagues. He avoided them by staying at Arthur’s side the whole time. The dark cloud of grief that could almost be felt and his empty face kept most people at distance from Arthur. Some came over to give their condolences, most left right after Arthur didn't react much beyond the smallest hint of a courteous smile and a nod. From time to time, Eames stroked Arthur's back or arm to remind him that he was not alone.  
When it seemed like everyone had arrived, Mr. Miles stepped onto the stage and said into the mic: “We are here to celebrate the way too short life of my darling daughter Malory Cobb. It was her request that we may not fall into too deep a grief, but instead remember the good times we had with her. Everyone is now invited to share their best memory about Mal with all of us. Let's remember the light my wonderful daughter brought into all our lives.”  
Applause.

Cobb was the first one on stage. He coughed once, loud into the microphone. Then he drew a deep shaky breath. “Mal. She was the love of my life, my soulmate. My best friend. When I met her - we were introduced by a mutual friend - it was love at first sight. I remember it like it was yesterday.” Cobb was smiling now, looking wistfully into the air. “She wore clothes you’d expect of an art major. But she was studying psychology. Only later, she started architecture. Mal was only studying philosophy, because her father wanted her to study architecture and she was nothing if not defiant. She had a deep love for architecture though and in the end, love won. Well, it didn’t win everything. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here right now. I loved her so much, I-”  
Cobb couldn't hold it anymore and let out a sob. Eames felt Arthur getting up next to him and placed a hand on the other man’s arm. Mr. Miles was already on stage, leading Dom back to his seat. 

The next few people were colleagues of Mal’s, some for years, others only for a few months. But each one of them had a unique story. Each story made Arthur fall into himself more.  
“Do you want to get out of here, love?”, Eames whispered.  
Arthur shook his head. “I have to stay here. For Dom. For… for Mal.”  
Eames took Arthur’s hands into his and looked into his eyes: “Arthur, darling. You have to stop putting others first. And I know the dearest Malory wouldn't mind the slightest if you slipped away. You know she always wanted the best for you.”  
Arthur was silent for some time, then he said quietly: “Okay. Let's go.”  
Eames was very glad they had chosen a place in the second to last row. He lead Arthur by the arm towards the exit. When they were out of the room, Arthur leaned against the wall and seemed to breathe freely for the first time since the morning. Eames stroked his arm.  
“Better?”  
Arthur nodded. “Thank you”, he said.  
Eames shot him a small smile.  
“What are you two doing?”, Cobb asked.  
Eames had to keep himself from groaning. Dominic Cobb was the last person Arthur needed right now.  
“Arthur’s just getting some air.”  
“Arthur can speak for himself”, Arthur said not as sternly as he could have. “I needed some air.”  
“Are you coming back inside in a minute?”, Cobb asked.  
“I don't know yet. It… seems like a farce. I can't pretend to be happy about her life when I'm still crying myself to sleep every night over her death.”  
Cobb shot Eames a quick look. Before Cobb could say the stupid thing running through his mind, Eames said: “Don't.”  
So Cobb didn't. Instead, he said: “Arthur, I need you right now. Do you know how hard it was to go through… everything, all of this, alone?”  
Arthur shrunk into himself like Cobb had kicked him in the shins. “I'm sorry, Dom”, he said.  
Eames wanted to go to punch Cobb. Yeah, the fella had just lost his wife. But he didn't need to be a dick to Arthur. But he had enough decency left not to deck a grieving  
widower for now. He settled for just gently touching Arthur's arm reassuringly.  
“And what's up with that?”, Cobb asked aggressively. “All the touching, the looks, the whispers. Did you wait till Mal was gone to make your move, Eames?”  
“Low blow, Cobb. Low blow. And it's not what you think. I would never take advantage of Arthur like that.”  
Arthur still looked small, shy. Eames felt torn; on the one hand, he wanted to give Cobb a piece of his mind, on the other hand, he wanted to get Arthur out of this situation as quickly as possible. He decided to take the less hostile route: “Wanna go for a walk, darling?”  
“That would be nice. Dom, I'm sorry I haven't been there for you. But I couldn't. Can’t. I needed time for myself, to process everything, to… grief. And Eames helped me a lot.”  
Arthur’s voice was wavering, but Eames could hear the steel behind it.  
Cobb looked between them. He probably knew that, no matter what he said now, the conversation was over. Apparently, he really wanted to hurt Arthur today, because he said: “Well, have fun playing house with the man she hated. But don't bother crawling back to me when it blows up in your face.”

When they got home, Arthur went straight to bed. Eames decided to make poultry for dinner. Cooking always helped him think. Obviously, Cobb had been completely out of line. But it couldn't always go on the way it was right now. Eames had to return to work and so did Arthur. Some time in the future, he'd also like to sleep in his bed again. He wouldn't kick Arthur out, especially after today. Of course, Cobb would get over himself and the two would make up, but that could take a while.  
When Arthur came out of the bedroom three hours later, Eames had a plan. The perfect poultry could wait.  
“Darling, what do you think of drowning your sorrows in alcohol?”, he asked with the most winning smile he could muster. It seemed to work, because, albeit a little tired, Arthur smiled back and said: “That sounds like a delightful idea, Mr. Eames.”  
Eames tried to ignore the tingle he got in his stomach from Arthur saying ‘Mr. Eames’. He was supportive a friend. That was it.

Somehow, they ended up on a park bench in the warm summer air, Arthur a little more than tipsy, Eames sober. The bar had gotten too stuffy, too restraining, so they'd decided to go for a walk. Right now, Arthur's head was resting in Eames’s lap. Arthur was fighting to keep his eyes open while Eames gently stroked his hair.  
“‘lcohol just makes me tired, ya know?”, Arthur slurred.  
“I know, darling”, Eames answered, smiling fondly. In this moment he thought, for the first time without any afterthought or negative backlash: ‘This is the man I fell in love with.’ Somehow, the realisation that what he felt for Arthur was way more than a passing crush, way more than fleeting affection didn’t manage to break the drowsy feeling in his chest. For now, Eames accepted wholeheartedly that he was in love with Arthur, had been for quite some time. He let the love pour through his veins, put all the things unsaid into the way he stroked Arthur's hair, the smile he gave him.  
“I'm sad, Eames”, Arthur said, burying his face into Eames’s thigh.  
“You are allowed to be.”  
“I'm sad I didn't speak at the living- the life- the service.”  
“You can tell me what you would have said”, Eames suggested, still stroking Arthur's hair, still smiling down at him like the love-struck fool he was.  
“You are smart, Eames”, Arthur said and tried to turn around so he could look at Eames. This almost resulted in him falling off the bench.  
Eames laughed and felt better than he had ever since he'd heard about Mal. In the end, Arthur managed to adjust his position so he was now laying on his back, looking up at Eames.  
“You have the most magnificent eyes.”  
“How can you say ‘magnificent’ but not ‘life celebration’?”, Eames chuckled. He could feel his cheeks grow warm from the compliment, he couldn’t even blame any alcohol.  
Arthur tried to shrug. Eames had moved on from stroking to gently crawling Arthur’s hair. It was very soft.  
“You wanted to tell me about Mal, love?”, Eames reminded him.  
Arthur furrowed his brow, then he seemed to remember and said: “You know, Mal was lovely. Wonderful. She was like the weather, strong and unpredictable. Sometimes people tried. Do I make sense?” Eames nodded. “You didn't know her, but I knew you I think when it was my favourite memory. We were at a party, someone's birthday, and we stayed very long. She decided to cook something and it turned out horrible. We cleaned it all up and ate cereal. That moment, I knew we would be friends forever. Whatever happened, Mal could always smile about it. Make it better. She always tried to make everything better for everyone else and forgot herself.”  
“Sounds like someone I know”, Eames whispered.  
“Are you sad too?”, Arthur asked, still looking up at him.  
Eames felt his throat close up and could only nod.  
“You haven't cried.”  
Again, Eames nodded. He set his jaw. He was almost shaking from all the repressed emotion.  
“I don't want you not to cry because of me.”  
That was what finally broke the damn. Eames let out a sob and said: “I lost her too.”  
Arthur got up and held him as he had held Arthur the days before. Eames just cried until the tears ran out. He was tired afterwards, but also relieved.  
“Let's go home and sleep”, he said, voice hoarse.  
Arthur just nodded. They went home arm in arm and Eames was not sure whose arm was the one doing the supporting.

Before Eames knew it, his week of vacation was almost up and he had to go back to set.  
“I've got work tomorrow”, Eames said.  
Arthur's head perked up. He had been reading some article on integrals or something while Eames had scrolled through his phone. They had been sitting in comfortable silence, legs intertwined on the couch that was not actually big enough for both of them to lie comfortably on, but that didn't keep them from trying.  
“What are you working on?”, Arthur carefully asked.  
“I got a semi-big role in a movie.”  
Arthur nodded. They both knew it was a bad idea to pry open old wounds, so Eames said: “I can give you my spare key if you want? Then you could leave the apartment while I'm on set.”  
“Yeah, that would make sense”, Arthur said. “I could also get groceries if you write me a list? You complained that your fridge was running short.”  
“Thanks.”  
Eames stubbed Arthur’s leg with his foot and soon, they were having a leg battle of dominance. Arthur won, but only because his legs were unfairly long and Eames had fallen off the couch.

The next day, Eames got up at seven am. It was way too early to get up after sleeping on the couch. Again he thought he should talk with Arthur about… everything. Their living situation.  
When he arrived at the set, Eames received a lukewarm welcome. Because of him, the shoots had had to be rescheduled and not everyone was happy with that, least of all their director Anna Ramirez.  
“Fauntleroy Eames, good to have you with us again.”  
Eames cringed at his first name. It was the whole reason he went by his surname. Arthur had once asked why he didn't pick one of his four middle names, but they were just as bad.  
“Anna. Thank you for being so understanding. I'm sorry for derailing your shoot, but a close friend of mine died unexpectedly.”  
“My condolences”, Anna said and pat his back. “You good to go?”  
Eames nodded.

Amazing how one week of vacation could make him forget how exhausting filming could be. He still loved it with all his heart, but after twenty takes for one and the same scene (one that required him to do a pull-up nonetheless), Eames started to hate it. After that marathon, they had a break. Eames played the cocky best friend of the main character, played by Chris Dicer. If the movie did well, he would probably get a bigger role in the sequel, because Chris couldn’t act for shit. They probably wouldn’t need as many takes if they could just recast him, but unfortunately, he was the son of the producer. Eames despised him with all his heart.

When he got home at eight pm, Eames made a beeline for the bed. He was too exhausted to bother putting on PJs, so he just discarded his jeans on the floor. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.  
He bolted awake because he'd dreamt his flat had burned down. He could still smell it, poisoning the air. When he'd rubbed his eyes and the smell was still there, Eames hurried into the kitchen where he found a desperate Arthur in front of a pan with food so burned it was unrecognisable what he'd been trying to make. There were flames starting to shoot out from it.  
In his panic, Arthur threw the pan out of the window.  
“Still a disaster in the kitchen I see?”, Eames asked.  
Arthur turned around quickly and looked at Eames like a rabbit in front of a snake.  
“Shit”, he said. “Eames, I'm sorry, I thought I'd make you breakfast, but then I started reading this article and suddenly it was burning and now your pan is probably broken.”  
Eames couldn't help it, he started to laugh. “Don't worry, you didn't ruin one of my expensive pans.”  
“There are expensive pans?” Arthur was still on edge and now white as a sheet.  
“Yes, there are. How the hell are you even alive.”  
“I always get take out.”  
Eames stepped fully into the kitchen now and started to prepare some edible breakfast.  
“So, how did you sleep on the couch?”, he asked to change the topic.  
To his surprise, Arthur didn't relax. A blush crept up his face. “I didn't.”  
“You spent the night somewhere else?”, Eames asked, eyebrows wiggling and heart aching.  
“No”, Arthur said. “I slept in your bed. With you.”  
In his shock, Eames dropped the egg he'd wanted to crack.  
“Oh”, was all he said. “Well, I mean, if it worked tonight, I'd really love to sleep in my bed again regularly? With you, I mean.”  
Now Eames was blushing too. This whole situation was getting more embarrassing by the second. They both were desperately looking for something, anything to say. They were saved by a phone ringing. Eames’s phone ringing. “Shit”, Eames said after he saw it was already ten. He ran into his bedroom and got his phone, which for some reason was not on the floor but on his desk docked to the charging station.  
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”  
Not Anna. Anna’s assistant Yusuf. Eames breathed a short sigh of relief.  
“I'm sorry, I'll be there in a minute. Well, thirty minutes. But I'll be there.”  
“You better be!”  
Without saying anything else, Yusuf hung up. Eames didn't bother to shower or brush his teeth or anything like that. He jumped into his jeans from yesterday, changed shirt and sprinted through the flat. With a quick “By honey, I'm late, have a nice day!” in the direction where Arthur probably was, Eames was out of the door.

As it turned out, Eames was lucky. Chris had messed up a prop and Anna was so annoyed with him, Eames didn’t get more than a glowering stare for being late.  
From there on, everything went as smoothly as it could with Chris. Eames tried to make the best of the shitty situation, but he'd forgotten how much it sucked to work on a movie you knew wasn't going to be that good.  
At two, they had a short break and to his surprise, Yusuf said: “Some guy in fancy clothing at the entrance said you know him. Wants to bring you food.”  
Eames couldn't help his smile as he saw Arthur standing there with bagels and coffee.  
“I was on a walk and thought this might make up for the pan. And the breakfast.”  
“To be fair”, Eames said as he took one of the two cups from him. “The breakfast is on me.”  
Arthur smiled at him, a real smile. He seemed relaxed and happy. “True, it's not my fault you overslept.”  
They carried on a pleasant conversation while Eames ate his bagel. He was relieved that after the awkwardness of this morning, they seemed to be okay.  
“I gotta go back in”, Eames said when he'd finished the food. “Anna’s gonna kill me if I'm late twice on the same day. But thank you for coming by. And for the food.”  
“You're welcome”, Arthur said.  
Eames really wanted to kiss him goodbye, but he opted for a hug instead.  
“I'll be home around eight or nine probably”, he said.  
Arthur smiled and answered: “See you then!”  
Eames wanted this moment to last, this moment he wouldn't have thought possible just two weeks ago. But he knew he had to go, so with one last wave, he went back to the set.

On his way home, Eames realised he was fucked. Or rather, Yusuf made him realise he was fucked. Eames was giving the P.A. a ride home. They were driving in silence, only the radio in the background, until Yusuf asked: “That your boyfriend?”  
Eames almost pumped the brakes, but he managed to hold the car steady and not show any visible reaction.  
“No, just a friend.”  
“A friend you’ve got feelings for.”  
Eames knew that saying nothing was as bad as saying yes, but he couldn't deny it.  
“Man, when you came back onto set you were glowing. And now you're telling me the two of you aren't even together?”  
“No, we're not.”  
Yusuf shook his head. “If you ask me, it's only a question of time.”  
Eames put on a smile and nodded. Luckily, they were at Yusuf's place now. “See you tomorrow”, Eames said. “On time.”  
“If not, me and Anna are gonna be pissed at you.”  
“Can't have that!”, Eames said and Yusuf laughed.  
Alone with his thoughts, Eames mulled the conversation over in his head. “It's only a question of time”. Bullshit. If it was, he and Arthur would be together already. They’d known each other for years and before the fight, Eames had never made a secret of his crush. And Arthur had never made a secret of his lack of the same. The problem was that now, it started to bother Eames a lot more than back then.

“Honey, I'm home”, Eames said in his most exasperated 50’s American accent.  
“In the living room!”, Arthur answered.  
After discarding his shoes, Eames went there and saw Arthur sitting on the couch with Chinese takeout in front of him.  
“I didn't even try to cook. I mean, you are welcome to, but I thought you might be tired after a long day on set.”  
“Wow, I love you”, Eames said as he sat down. And then he froze. He'd said it. I love you. Fuck.  
Eames barely dared to breathe. It was so quiet you could hear the music from two stories down. I love you, the silence seemed to scream.  
“The chicken is good”, Arthur said.  
“Yeah?”, Eames asked, aware he probably sounded like a whistling mouse.  
“Yeah. It's a little spicy, but not too much.”  
They were both concentrating very hard on the food in front of them.  
“I better try it then. Right now.”  
Eames took the chopsticks and put way too much chicken into his mouth. It would keep him from having to talk, for a while at least.  
His chewing was unbearably loud in the silence. He wanted to tell Arthur to turn on the TV and look what's on, but he had too much chicken in his mouth for that.  
“I love you too, you know”, Arthur said. Eames almost choked on his chicken.  
“What?”, he said when his mouth was finally free again. His eyes were watery from all the coughing.  
Arthur was still looking at the food. “I love you”, he said.  
Eames still couldn't believe he was hearing it right. “Am I dreaming?”, he asked.  
“No, you idiot”, Arthur said, blushing slightly and finally looking at Eames. “You're awake and I'm here and I-”  
Eames didn't let him finish. He kissed him, right there and then. It was even better than he could have imagined. Arthur tasted like the chicken that had almost cause Eames’s demise, but he also tasted like mint and like something Eames would soon learn was just Arthur. Their lips fit together perfectly. Eames was the one to pull away. He was beaming from ear to ear.  
“Darling, I think you're the idiot. We could have done this much sooner”, he said.  
Arthur shrugged, “I mean, you are right. But it took some time for me to realise.”  
“When?”  
“When it started? Hard to tell. Definitely before. When I realised? Also hard to tell. But the moment it hit me was last night when I came home after getting some clothes from my place and saw you on the bed, sleeping. I thought to myself: This is what I want.”  
Eames was speechless. So instead of saying anything, he climbed on Arthur's lap and kissed him again. He still couldn't believe he could do that now. Kiss Arthur. Eames felt like he was flying, his head in the clouds no bringing him down.  
This time, Arthur broke their kiss, but only to nibble Eames’s earlobe - good lord had he been standing, he'd be a puddle on the floor - and whisper: “Do you mind if we move this from the couch onto the bed?”  
Eames really didn't mind. 

Bliss. That's how Eames would describe his life for the whole of July. Not everything was perfect, but he and Arthur were together. Him and Arthur. Together. Every morning he woke up next to him and got to kiss him, every night they went to bed together. Sometimes, Arthur visited him on set and even then, Eames got to hold his hand in a romantic way. Got to give him little pecks. It was true and total bliss.  
But the bliss didn’t last. One afternoon at the end of July, they found themselves in the living room, screaming at each other from the top of their lungs. They spew vile, hurtful things, words with the sole intent to hurt. And then Arthur said: “If you're so fucking smart, then why didn't you ever get your doctor’s degree?”  
That was what made Eames shut down. He grew cold, his voice was barely above a whisper as he asked: “What did you say?”  
“You could have had it all, Eames. But you had to throw it all away just to become a fucking actor.”  
“Fuck you, Arthur”, Eames said. And then he left. He didn't look back as he let his door fall shut

An hour later, Eames returned and Arthur was gone. And so was his suitcase. Eames told himself not to keep his hopes up, but it was until they had wrapped up filming when Eames realised with cold certainty that Arthur wasn’t coming back. There wasn’t even a call. Eames told himself that it was better that way, that he could never be with someone who didn't respect his profession, wouldn’t ever respect him for who he was. He tried to forget Arthur, tried to forget the nights they'd spent together. He cried some, cursed some and then he stopped. Pushed his feelings away, locked them inside his chest and threw away the key. It was better that way. Easier.

**Author's Note:**

>  _me: "I should finally finish that faranda fic that's been spooking around my head!"_  
>  dark me: "ditch it and write inception fanfiction instead" 
> 
> As I said in the beginning, this is a prequel. I actually started with the sequel, but then I realised it didn't make much sense without the backstory. I will try to finish part two (called "After") it by February, if it's not out by March you can start throwing rocks at me.  
> As always, you're welcome to come talk to me on [tumblr](writtelings.tumblr.com)!  
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated.


End file.
